In-Combat-Ible
by sammaher
Summary: Much to the dismay of Captain Miller, a 9th soldier is added to the group assembled to find and save Pvt James Ryan. However, he is unaware that this new recruit will alter the events of their journey, and transform the lives of all men involved, forever. First ever fanfic, please give it a shot! I own nothing but my OC. (Mature Content Inside)
1. Author's Note

Just a short author's note before I begin.

As well as this being the first fanfiction I have written on _Saving Private Ryan_, it is also the first fanfiction I have _ever_ written. The film itself was a masterpiece so as I write this, I will be studying it very closely (probably to the point that I will never be able to watch it ever again). I am going to aim to be as true to the characters as possible and I will do my best to keep it historically accurate so if I cock it up, please don't hesitate to put me right.

This fanfic will be rated M for gore, lots of swearing and maybe a little (maybe a lot) of sexy time in later chapters.

Lastly, I don't want to bore anyone to death but before I get onto the actual story itself, I just want to explain why I have decided to embark upon this fictional journey. There is very little SPR fanfiction out there, and not a lot of it is worth reading (don't get me wrong, some of it is great and has partially inspired me to write this!). However, a lot of stories remain incomplete and, personally, there's nothing I hate more than being really invested in a story to find it hasn't been updated in 4 years. Now I am **NOT** claiming that I'm a fantastic writer- any writing I have done previously has been for school- but I am going to try to do my best to make sure that this is one of the better stories out there and that everyone enjoys reading it as much as I am already enjoying writing it.

_I do not own Saving Private Ryan or any of its characters. If I did, it would have gone a lot differently. _

**REVIEWS &amp; CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM ARE ALWAYS WELCOME**

Sam


	2. Of Sand & Crimson Waves

Of Sand &amp; Crimson Waves

As I slowly willed my eyes to open, I was overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions that surged to the forefront of my mind. The first was relief: I was alive. I couldn't begin to fathom how; given the circumstances I was in before I somehow ended up in my unconscious state, but I was. I was aware that I was still outside somewhere, and my ears- although desensitized- picked up the faint, distant hum of voices and the distinctive, grinding vibrations which could only be associated with something mechanical. My heart skipped a beat as I realized that the atmosphere which surrounded me now was tranquil, no evidence that deafening explosions and blood-curdling screams could have be heard not days ago. It was baffling to think that the last place I was conscious was an area of total devastation. In spite of an increasingly painful headache and the constant WAH-WAH-WAH that was sounding in my ears, I struggled to recall what exactly had happened in the moments previous to being thrown into oblivion. Granted, the pounding in my head made this more than a little challenging, however, as I closed my eyes to block out the harsh brightness of the sky above me, I began to see flickers...

_Waves lapping up to the shore, polluted by thick, opaque crimson. Soft, beige sand contaminated with powdery, black ash. The usually briny fragrance of the sea, fouled by the odor of burning flesh. _

They were just shards of broken memories, not enough to piece together a series of events, but it was enough. With a pained gasp, my eyes flew open. I blinked away tears as I fought to escape the harrowing visions. Confusion. I was suddenly jolted back into the present and reminded that I had no idea where I was or how I got there. I tried to raise my head from the ground to get a glimpse of my surroundings but a stab of pain in my neck stopped me in my tracks. I groaned quietly and my head lulled back onto the ground with a dull thud. Deducing that all I could see from that angle was the shrouded grey sky above me, I once again closed my eyes and attempted to even out my breathing.

A few seconds later, the peaceful quiet around me was disturbed by the sound of muffled voices and rustling nearby. Panic. Instantaneously, all of my senses were on red alert as my training as a soldier became predominant and my instincts of self-preservation kicked in. Using all of my energy to lift myself from the ground, I was alarmed when I was met with resistance. Immediately, I thought the worst. _Was I paralyzed? _I was completely disorientated and in my urgency to get up, my head spun and my vision blurred. The voices were louder now and as I looked down at my body for the cause of my immobility, I discovered that there were hands everywhere. I was being_ pinned_ down. Ignoring the ache in my neck, I whipped my head up frantically to see the faces of seven other soldiers leaning over me. All of them scrutinizing me with different emotions etched upon their faces. Worry, irritation, suspicion and, above all, confusion. At first, afraid they might have been Germans, I continued to struggle and writhe against the dirt, grunting until one of the men, slight and boyish, unlike the others, placed a hand gently on my shoulder.

"Relax Private! You're hurt pretty bad and moving around is just gonna open up your stitches."

_Stitches?_ I decided to let that go for the time being. Reassured that they were, in fact, Americans and by the red cross marked on the soldier's helmet, signifying that he was a medic, I began to relax back onto the ground, breathing a sigh of relief. My muscled ached from my efforts and my mind reeled with the realization that I was safe. Well, as safe as I could be during a war.

"Where am.. Where am I?" I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Still on Omaha Beach- but don't worry its secure!" he hurried to assure me.

"Captain! Hey Captain, get over here!" yelled a soldier on my right.

This man was bald despite his youth, tall and hulking next to the medic. Although, despite his intimidating stature, his eyes held the most concern as he looked down on me. I wondered why that was. I wasn't able to ponder this for long though as the sound of heavy footsteps approached hastily and several of the men to my left were pushed roughly to the side by the newcomer. Still slightly dazed and unable to concentrate on the Captain's face, I was alarmed when I sensed that, for whatever reason, this man was extremely angry. Pushing forward, he grabbed me by my shirt and hoisted me off the ground. Every bone in my body protested to the sudden movement and I could hear the medic, amongst others behind me, also objecting to the Captain's actions. Now, nose to nose with this enraged soldier, the confusion drained from my body and I was filled with dread as his features came into focus.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

And then it all came back to me. I uttered one word

"..Shit" and then I fell back into the dark.

_OK! So that was my first chapter. I'm really excited about this story and I would love it if you guys took a moment to review my first chapter and let me know what you thought of it. I'll hopefully try to update maybe once a week/fortnight and reveal all of the twists and turns I have planned for this journey. Big shout out to my beta reader MayDayRejects who helped me through my first chapter and made me feel welcome to the world of fanfiction!_


	3. Of Faceless Leaders & Czech Hedgehogs

Of Faceless Leaders and Czech Hedgehogs

June 6, 1944

0632

Dog Green Sector

Omaha Beach

I clung to the side of the wooden boat with white knuckles and tried to concentrate on keeping the pace of my breathing in time with the sound of the sea beating against the shore. However, no matter how long I spent breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, nothing could quell the overwhelming terror that had consumed my heart in the last few hours. Even the sounds of the ocean which could once have calmed me in minutes, actually had the opposite effect. These waves were violent and as they collided with the sides of the barge, it became clear that they were an ominous sign of what was to come. The sheer force of them against the flat bottomed Higgins boats- combined with the anxiety of the situation- resulted in many of the soldiers hurrying to empty their stomachs over the sides. Unfortunately, with there being thirty six of us crammed together in the small space, there were a few unlucky men who were unable to reach the sides and, so, had no choice but to vomit in the aisles.

As I too struggled to hold back the vomit, I forced myself to pull my gaze from my feet to peer up at the approaching coastline. I was slightly relieved to find that it was still a fair distance away. As I resumed my previous distraction of staring at my shoelaces, I decided to use what may be the last minutes of my life to look back on my past and think of all of the happy memories I had shared with my family. A few tears escaped the corners of my eyes and I hastened to wipe them away before any of the other soldiers saw them. That was the last thing we needed, we had to remain hopeful.

Apparently, I was unsuccessful as I felt a firm hand grip my shoulder and give a rough squeeze. I turned my head slightly and saw that it was Private Ben Rogers. I had met Ben back in basic and we had been good friends since. He was a good guy, he had faith in my ability as a soldier even when most others didn't and I prayed for his soul with the same desperation as I did for mine.

After hours of silence within the company, I jumped when a voice behind me shouted

"Clear the ramp, 30 seconds! God be with you!"

_Wait, what?! 30 seconds- that can't be right! _I spun to face the front, filled with confusion and fear as I saw that we were still nowhere near the beach.

"Wait- what the fuck?! We're still at least five thousand yards away!" I exclaimed.

Private Rogers simply extended his arm and pointed out several, oddly-shaped objects which would appear for a moment when the tide shrank back away from the land.

"What are those?" I whispered.

"I heard some guy back in basic call them Czech Hedgehogs: they're designed to rip the bottoms out of boats when they get close at high tide. Some have mines attached to the tops- see?" He directed my attention to a few of the closest ones.

"We can't risk getting to close." I finished his explanation in a hopeless monotone. "We're all gonna drown before we touch the sand."

The voices of Captain Fellers and Sargent Heubner were loud and frantic as they fought to make sure their commands could be heard by every soldier.

"Port side-stick! Starboard side-stick! Move fast and clear those murder holes!"

"I wanna see plenty of feet between men! Five men is a juicy opportunity- one man is a waste of ammo!"

"Keep the sand out of your weapons. Keep those actions clear… and I'll see you on the beach."

Suddenly, everyone dropped below the tops of the boat walls as naval shells were fired, exploding just feet from the vessels. I was filled with adrenaline and fear and I clutched the cross around my neck in despair. The detonations shook the boats and sent bursts of water skywards, drenching us with a biting cold. The whistles of the shells became louder as we approached them and, in turn, the beach. So much had happened in that thirty seconds that I began to question whether or not the ramps were actually going to drop. My thoughts were interrupted as a whistle shrieked and the ramp fell with surprising speed into the water.

No sooner than my vision had cleared from the splash, than almost every soldier in front of me crumpled and fell unceremoniously into the sea as bullets sprayed through the mist and hit every man in their path. I whipped my head up to find the source of the assault and my wide eyes found several concrete pillbox bunkers built into the cliff faces ahead of us. I was pulled out of my reverie when I was hauled backwards and a command I was eager to comply with was shouted in my ear;

"Over the sides!"

I held my gun to my chest and, aided by the hands on my back, I threw myself over the edge of the boat and rolled into the water. My assumptions about the water depth were correct. Although, it was difficult to see in the murky water, I judged that it was around ten feet deep and with the weight of my gun, haver sack and ammo belt, I sunk to the bottom. I hurriedly rid myself of supplies such as my pick mattock and shovel in an attempt to let go of enough weight to float to the top. However, it still wasn't enough and I was running out of air. Bullets were slicing through the water, almost all of them hitting soldiers with surprising accuracy. As several whizzed by me and punctured the seabed, I panicked and started to struggle with the fastenings of my pack but, I was unexpectedly pulled to the surface by a pair of strong arms. I coughed and spluttered and looked up at my saviour. Private Rogers.

The water was still too deep to stand in and as Ben and I struggled towards the shore, we had trouble keeping our heads above the water for a few seconds at a time. Under the water, I had easily underestimated the level of chaos that was going on just above me. Every time I resurfaced, the muffled popping noises I had heard while submerged erupted into a deafening combination of sounds. The high pitched shrieking of shells, the ground shaking boom of detonating mines, and the torturous screams of the men who had stepped on them. After what seemed like an eternity, we got close enough to the shore for our feet to touch the ground and I raised my head fully out of the water. The scene before me sucked the air from my lungs.

There were soldiers everywhere, dragging their injured comrades forward to seek refuge behind Czech Hedgehogs. Men were being blown twenty feet into the air along with chunks of the beach, leaving craters in their wake and creating temporary pillars of sand which billowed upwards before falling back to earth. Millions of bullets continued to rain down upon us, wiping out the majority of soldiers who tried to advance up the beach. Through all of this, I had managed to keep a firm hold of my gun and as soon as I reached one of the Czech Hedgehogs, I tore the plastic from my Springfield M1903 and peered around the side of the steel structure.

I had to squint to see through the smoke but I could vaguely make out the figures of the German soldiers within the nearest bunker. With practiced ease, I snapped the scope onto my gun, reached for my ammo belt and loaded the maximum five round capacity of magazines: there would be no time to stop and reload. I braced my Springfield on the joint of the Hedgehog where two beams crossed and selected my target. One particular machinegun operator was slaughtering every US soldier he set his sights on. If I killed him, the delay between another Kraut realising this and moving to take his place might just give me enough time to sprint from my hiding place up to the shingle seawall where many of my comrades had already begun to assemble. Focussing on the gunner, I took a deep, calming breath and squeezed the trigger. I wasn't sure where I had hit him, but he was down and that was enough.

I turned to grab Private Rogers by his collar and proceeded to drag him out from behind the Hedgehog and barrelled flat-out across the sand. In my frantic state, I almost fell face first into the blood-soaked sand when I tripped over something bulky and wailing. I glanced down and the vomit I had been successfully holding back spewed from my mouth as I saw the disembowelled man on the ground, attempting to prevent his intestines from spilling out through the deep gash in his abdomen. I locked eyes with the soldier and took pity on him as he began to plead with me to ease his passing. As I choked on my sobs, I pulled my pistol from my belt and put him out of his misery.

"What the hell was that?!" Ben demanded.

"I had to, he never stood a chance!"

"He might ha-"

"He was fuckin' inside-out!" I screamed in his face.

I wiped my tears and released Rogers so we could run independently. I pushed on as hard and as fast as I could, manoeuvring to dodge both bullets and shells alike and, although, I heard voices behind me warn,

"Don't be so god-damned stupid boy! They'll mow you down!"

I didn't stop until I threw myself down onto the shingle beside the other men. I couldn't bring myself to look and see if I recognized any of them, too afraid of noticing who w_asn't _there. I choked and coughed on seawater and smoke and looked down to find that I was covered head to toe in the blood of my fellow soldiers. I realised that I had better make my presence known.

"Private Archer here, Sir!"

"You're not in my company, what are you doin' here?!" A man on my right demanded.

A voice behind me beat me to the punch.

"We're all mixed up, Sir! We got the leftovers from Fox Company, Able Company and George Company."

He finished as a rather stalky man rolled over us towards the first man who had spoken. I stared around, wide eyed at the devastation and shuffled to the side as I saw three more men run towards us and dive down beside the rest of the soldiers.

"Reiben here, Sir!" The furthest from me announced.

"See anybody else?"

"Jackson, but that's about it!"

The other two men called out,

"Mellish, here!"

"Caparzo! We got Deforest back there with Wade! He's hurt so bad he said he'd sprung a hundred leaks- Wade says he's all used up!"

The man I had reported to earlier ordered,

"Get his attention!"

His voice sounded familiar, however, I put it down to it being not particularly distinctive. I couldn't see his face from the smoke and the way his features were constantly moving, giving out instructions, but, I could just about make out the Captain's bars on his helmet. I felt a brief moment of sadness that I hadn't seen my own Captain since we had abandoned the boats.

As the others began shouting a chorus of the name, Wade, I searched the area for the man in question. It didn't take long for me to find the man with the medic's cross on his helmet. My eyes trailed down to the man he was helping and I sighed in despair at the soldier's critical condition. I had to do a double take when I realized the bloody corpse shielding Deforest's body from attack resembled…No. Ben. I groaned and pounded my fists into the clay in frustration. I looked to the empty space beside me where he should have been. _How could I have gone this long without realizing he wasn't there?!_

For the third time in thirty minutes, I was crying. I turned and watched the waves slither onto the sand, claim the fallen and drag them back into its depths to feed its creatures, and I thought of how undignified the deaths of these soldiers were. These men- some of them barely just- suffered the worst fate possible. Despite being surrounded by other men they may have considered friends, these soldiers died alone. Most suffering slow, painful deaths from gruesome wounds with no choice but to lie on unfamiliar ground in wait for the blood to flow from their bodies. Their last breathes, used, not for uttering words of thanks and love to their families, but to scream until their lungs ached and bled. I wept for my fallen comrades, dying for a cause they had nothing to do with. I wept for their mothers, on the other side of the globe, daydreaming of the day their sons would come home, blissfully unaware that said sons were currently lying face-down in the sand, minus one or more limbs. I wept for myself, because I knew that unlike many of these soldiers, I wanted to be here to help and, even in being so, I couldn't prevent this.

I was snapped out of my wistful state when the back of my head was jabbed, rather violently, with the butt of a gun.

"Get your head outta your ass, Son! Looks like we're movin."

Nearby, a strong Michigan accent could be heard over the others.

"Hey Reiben! Hey Reiben, Reiben, Reiben! Where's y- where's your B.A.R.?"

"Bottom of the Channel, Sir: the bitch tried to drown me." The soldier deadpanned in the thickest New York inflection I'd ever heard. That clue, coupled with the word 'BROOKLYN' that was printed across the back of his jacket made it abundantly clear where this Private was from.

"Find a replacement." And, with that, Reiben slid down the shingle to do just that.

"Bangalores! Bring up some Bangalores!"

No sooner had he finished his command than several soldiers came hurrying in our direction with the tubes. Another body landed nearby and called,

"Jackson here, Sir!"

One by one, more soldiers assembled on the shingle and I felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps there were enough soldiers here to secure the beach. I didn't want to let myself become too optimistic so I focussed my attention on watching the soldiers feed the torpedoes up onto the tops of the slopes.

"Bangalores! Clear the shingle!"

"Fire in the hole!"

I rolled onto my side and brought my arms up around my head as the fuses were lit. Deafening explosions made the ground quake and great walls of sand and clay burst up in front of us, momentarily rendering us blind. As soon as we had a visual, we heard,

"We're in business- defilade! Other side of the hole!"

With a force I didn't know I possessed, I pushed up from the ground and charged forward with the others. Bullets continued to shower down on us, missing us by inches as we made our way toward a low, concrete wall. Chunks of cement had been gauged out by bullets and shell fragments and springs of barbed wire stuck out in odd ways where parts of the wall had been blown away, now writhing about dangerously in the wind. At the front, the Captain rolled a dead body out of his way and attempted to peer around the wall to glimpse the location of the Germans, only to be narrowly missed by bullets which hit the ground with a sharp rat-a-tat, shooting dust up into his face. I watched his hands quickly fashion a device that he used to scan the area on the other side of the wall.

"Two MG 42s and two mortars: down twenty, left thirty."

Over the course of the battle, I had learned that the man from Michigan was a Sergeant and he now took the mirror from the Captain to have a look.

"There's a little defilade over there but it's the perfect firing position if we could get some Goddamn armour on the beach!"

"We gotta get this draw open!" the Captain exclaimed in frustration.

"Reiben, Mellish! Let's get into the war! Grab some cover and put some fire on that crew- Davis, De Bernardo, Young, Valk! Get Ready!"

As the number of my comrades on this side of the wall steadily decreased, I perched my Springfield on top of the brickwork to aid them. However, I quickly found that I was not in range and that any attempts made to assist the others would only result in a waste of ammo. The sound of gunfire amplified as our troops began to fight back and I stayed, crouched behind the wall, awaiting my own commands.

"It's a Goddamn firing squad." Said the Sergeant, resigned.

The Captain covered for another round of soldiers as they too headed out behind the wall and then, with one final look in the mirror, he sighed and said

"Jackson, Archer."

"Yes, Sir."

"You see that impact crater?"

"Yes, Sir."

"That should give you complete defilade from that machine gun's position, get in there and give me some fire. Wait for my command!"

The other soldier and I braced ourselves at the edge of the gap in the wall and waited for the Captain's word. This Jackson was a lot taller than me- of course, I has always been incredibly short- however, from this angle I was able to peer over his shoulder and, as I saw him reach into his shirt, pull out his cross and kiss it, I was compelled to do the same.

I was shocked when the Captain jumped out from behind the wall, in full sight and yelled,

"Go!"

Not needing to be told twice, Jackson and I bolted out into the chaos. I hurdled several dirt mounds, the sound of bullets whistling past my head and the tall grass whipping my legs as I zigzagged my way towards the impact crater. Aware of the other Privates covering our journey, we tucked and rolled into the deep pit. As I adjusted my gun and positioned it at the perfect angle to ambush the German machinegun operators right above our heads, my mind strayed back to the man I had only come to know as 'Captain'. I couldn't even recall a last name as I thought back to how he had just leapt out into the open, ready to sacrifice his life so his men could get to safety. I had no idea if I would ever see this man again. The possibility of one or both of us dying within the next few minutes was very probable. As I closed one eye and squinted through my scope with the other, I zoned in on my target and, with the nameless, faceless Captain at the forefront of my mind, I blew the back of the Kraut's head off. Hearing a mumbled,

"Nice shot, Archer." And the unmistakable c_rack_ of a Springfield's shot.

I looked back up just in time to see the sandbags surrounding the Germans give way, the soldiers tumbling down from the high ground directly into the path of my allies.

I heaved myself out of the crater and, along with Jackson, ran to join Reiben and the others. They ran toward a low wall made up of sandbags and crouched until the path opened up to reveal several dirt trenches. German soldiers raced to seek refuge behind them, only to be shot down in their tracks by our B.A.R. gunners. I ducked beside Mellish and together, we picked off any Germans remaining in the ditches. As we finished up, I turned and hurried towards the others as they tossed grenades into a concrete bunker. Myself and another soldier shuffled towards the bunker, guns raised and after a few seconds, a man ran out, completely oblivious to his surroundings. I pulled the trigger, pleased when I heard the tell-tale thud of a body crumpling to the ground. As we prepared to turn away, a small movement caught my eye. I whirled back toward the bunker and, through the smoke left behind by the grenades, I could make out a lone soldier. He failed to notice me and prepared to fire on the unsuspecting Private in front of me. Blinded by panic, I let my gun fall to my side and threw myself forwards, into his broad back, knocking us both to the ground at the same instant a shot rang out. Relieved that the man beneath me was still very much alive, I tried to lift myself off of him. However, an excruciating pain in my side meant all I could manage was to roll myself onto my back.

"Shit… Medic? Medic! We need a medic over here!" the soldier I had saved called out.

I felt the warmth of something trickling down my abdomen, noises became muffled and distant, and my vision began to blur around the edges, progressing inward until I succumbed to the black of unconsciousness…

**Ok so that's my second chapter! Please review and let me know what you guys think, I would love to hear from you. At the moment I'm having a lot of fun writing this but, honestly, hearing what everyone's thoughts are would really motivate me to keep going! Thanks MayDayRejects again for Beta reading this chapter, you were a big help!**


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